


Big Brother

by Rimbaum



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other, Transgender, Transgendered Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-20 22:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/217547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rimbaum/pseuds/Rimbaum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Non-Sburb AU. Bro Strider has to raise a kid with gender dysphoria. Trying not to screw Dave up permanently is hard, and nobody understands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've done a ridiculous amount of research for just a simple fanfic. I'm trying to keep the transgender issue here as realistic as possible, but there are some areas where there's just not a whole lot of research done. Transitioning youths are one of those areas, so I'm going to try and use a realistic guess as to what will be going on, based on simple biology and the data available for adult trans men.

Your name is Ambrose 'Bro' Strider, and your little sister Evelyn is going through a phase. At the age of four, most kids start playing pretend and expect everyone else to play along with them. So you humor her. Today, she's saying that she's now a little boy and that her name is Dave. Not David, just Dave. "All right, little si... little bro." She beams up at you, and you figure that this is probably one of the easier, less awkward pretend phases she could've chosen. One kid at her daycare insisted on being Superman, down to refusing to dress in anything but the stupid Halloween costume he'd gotten last year.

You take your little sis to the local Goodwill to get some boy's clothes. Raising a kid is expensive, and most of your extra cash is eaten up in the upkeep of your DJ equipment. So buying a new set of non-frilly clothes would take a good chunk of change that you could be putting towards something else.

'Dave', as she's calling herself for now, doesn't seem to mind. She goes straight for the dirtiest, most torn up shirts and pants. Especially pants. Not surprising, seeing as she's wearing a frilly little set of jeans right now. You insist on at least getting a few outfits that aren't torn up to hell, and she helps pick them out.

She goes to school the next day and winds up in a fight. She says the other boys wouldn't play with her. The day after that, she asks you to teach her how to fight. You say sure, because martial arts is a damn useful skill for anyone to know, guy or girl, and she might need it for self-defense at some point.

You start teaching her the basics, how she shouldn't be using what she learns to go around and beat other kids up just because she knows how. She asks if she can learn sword fighting if she's good with that. You're not sure if she's going to keep up her little obsession that long, but you say yes anyway. It's good discipline and self-control for her if she keeps up with it.

~~~~~

You've just been woken up by the school. Dave's gotten into a fight again. Third time this month, and they're threatening suspension. You grumble that you'll be there as soon as you get dressed. You wouldn't be surprised if it's the same cause again – Dave beating someone up because they dared to call her a girl. You sigh as you put on your baseball cap and sunglasses. She's almost eight years old, she should've grown out of this phase a long time ago.

You think maybe it's time to have a chat with her.

Her name's sorta stuck as Dave. Everyone assumes it's a nickname, but she pitches a fit whenever a teacher addresses her as Evelyn. You can't blame her, you always tell people to call you Bro because you think Ambrose is a stupid name. You look down at her sulking in the principal's office chairs before signing her out for the day and making an arrangement to have a chat with some of the teachers next week before they allow her back into class.

You lead her to the car, shaking your head as she buckles in. Neither of you say anything, not until you get home and she tosses her backpack into her room. "You can't keep doing this, Dave. Your little phase is gonna end now. I'm not bailing you out or defending you when I talk to your principal, got it?"

She screws up her face into one you're all too familiar with. Dave's ready to throw a bitchfit, and she'll probably try to do some serious damage. Luckily, you're not one of the relatively defenseless kids she goes to school with. You have her arms behind her back and pinned down to the floor before she even has a chance to fight back. "Fuck you Ambrose! This isn't some dumb phase, it's real!"

"You're a girl, Evelyn. You can act like a tomboy if that's what you want, I don't care, but stop tryin' to get people to act like you're not a girl."

Wrong thing to say. Maybe you've humored her tomboyishness a little too long, because she starts screaming and kicking, aiming right for your crotch. You know you don't really have the money for it, but you might wind up busting your ass a bit harder so you can take her to a shrink. Obviously, you fucked up somewhere along the line if she's honestly convinced she's a dude.

You hold her down until she wears herself out, tears running down her face but refusing to let out so much as a sniffle. "Room. Now. You've got homework you need to do, and if I catch you playing games or on the computer without permission, they get locked up in my room." She knows you'll do it, too. You've never backed out on threats of punishment yet.

"Fuck you, Ambrose..." her voice is wavering, and you pull her up to look her in the eye, no shades between the two of you.

"I don't mind callin' you Dave, kiddo. But you keep calling me Ambrose and I'll keep calling you Evelyn. And secondly, you keep this attitude up and I will not hesitate to beat your ass black and blue."

She nods, not brave enough to look away from you until you take the initiative to push your sunglasses back up on your nose. "I gotta go get ready for work. Stay out of my way and behave, got it?"

She just nods again, then goes into her room. She's pissed at you, and you know it. She always give some sort of verbal response when you tell her to do something, even if it's a 'yeah whatever.' You grumble and head off to try and get a shower in before a long day of work.

~~~~~

Even though your day job is simple enough, it's exhausting work moving other people's furniture for them. But the tips are pretty decent, and you have a night gig at the local titty bar to give them some custom music. It gives you a chance to relax and zone out, for the most part. While getting a free show, of course.

One of the dancers, a girl that goes by Delilah on the stage, comes up to you. She's already off the clock, but she likes talking to you. So long as you keep stuff running according to the scripts, the manager doesn't care if you have someone up there with you or not.

"What's up, Strider? You look tense. More than usual, anyways."

You shrug. She knows about Dave – you've told her about your little sis plenty of times before, but never too much at once. Tonight, though, you let everything out. Down to feeling like a shitty guardian for raising a girl to think she was a boy.

She kicks you, and those platform heels hurt like a bitch. "The hell was that for, Lilah?"

"I've told you about my sister, right?" Katie, you remember. The girl was coming into town for a visit, and you've had thoughts of hitting her up for a bit of fun.

"Yeah, what about her?"

Lilah rolls her eyes and hits you on the shoulder. "She was born a he."

Welp. There goes your boner, and all thought of asking for a one-night stand. You like to think of yourself as tolerant, but that sort of information is not good on your libido. "Okay. So?"

"I think your little _brother_ is a trans boy. You shouldn't beat yourself up about it... and for God's sake, don't try to change what he's trying to be." Trans boy? What the fuck. You've never heard of that sorta thing, and the whole idea of letting Dave try and be a boy is a bit repulsive.

"She's just a kid. She doesn't know what she's getting into. She doesn't know what she wants."

Lilah gives you another kick with those goddamn heels. "Kids are pretty honest. How long has he been saying he's a boy?" Her insistence on calling Dave a he is weirding you out.

"Since she was four." Lilah kicks you again. You're probably gonna have one hell of a bruise on the back of your leg at this rate. "Quit that or I'll convince Ricky to have your next shift set entirely to the B-52s." You know how much she hates the band.

"Quit calling him a girl. The worst thing you can do is try to force him into a role he doesn't want. Think about when he hits puberty. That's coming up pretty soon for him, yeah? Think about how bad you'd feel if you had to go through the changes of a girl's body at that age." She looks pretty serious. And honestly, once she's said it, the thought leaves you with a faint feeling of unease.

"You're not the one raising her. I am." You hate having to resort to the defense of 'you're not the kid's parent, stay out of it,' but you don't want to have to keep defending your choices.

Lilah looks at you, and for the first time since talking to her you think you've really said the wrong thing and upset her. "You're right. I just don't want to see another trans kid get so depressed they attempt suicide because the most important person in the world to them won't listen to what they're trying to say."

You miss the cue to bring out the next girl and start up the next song. You recover pretty quick, making the announcement before going back to look at Lilah in the eye. "… Your sis do that?" She nods, and you have to fight to keep your cool.

Like hell you're gonna make a decision that could lead to Dave attempting suicide. "Sh... _He's_ pissed at me right now." You're quick to correct yourself. It's gonna take a fair bit of getting used to, you think.

Lilah pulls a piece of paper out of her purse, and scribbles a name down on it, putting it in your front pocket and patting it with a wink. "Go here. It's a support group for the local GLBT community. Tell them what's going on, they can help you find the names of trans-friendly shrinks and doctors, and after you talk it out with your brother, maybe you can start taking him with you. I think they've got a youth group."

"Thanks, Lilah."

~~~~~

You get home way too damn late, and Dave's fallen asleep on the couch. You sit next to her _(him, you mentally correct yourself)_ , and shake him awake. "Hey little bro. Let's get you in your bed."

He wipes his eyes, crusted over with dried tears. You ruffle his hair, trying to remember not to slip up somewhere in your sleep deprivation. "Thought you said I wasn't your bro."

You feel a sinking weight in your gut. "Yeah, well, I got my ass handed to me by a stripper who says otherwise." You pull him over your shoulder, and Dave's too tired to fight back as you drag him to his room.

"Dude, you never get your ass handed to you by nobody."

"Women have a tendency to do that. You'll learn it soon enough." You toss him down on his bed, and he kicks at you. "Go back to sleep. I gotta get some myself. Tomorrow, we'll have a talk about this, 'kay?"

"Why can't we talk now?"

You raise an eyebrow, but sit down on the edge of his bed. "If you really want. I can't be coherent all the time, bro. I really do need my sleep."

"Why do I gotta be a girl? It don't feel right, Bro." He honestly looks confused. Upset. Hell, even frustrated. You try to step back a moment and think about how he's gotta feel. You'd probably be feeling the same way.

"That's life's ultimate irony, little bro."

He raises an eyebrow, mimicking your own expression as well as he can without any shades on. "Yeah, well, it's not very cool."

You wrap an arm around his shoulders and pull him in for a brotherly hug. "The ultimate irony never is, kiddo. But I'm not gonna make you deal with it alone."


	2. Chapter 2

Shrinks aren't cheap, and neither of your jobs has any sort of health insurance to help with the bills. You've had to start looking into public healthcare options, but most of those don't like covering the cost of a visit to the shrink. So, every two or three weeks, you've gotta shell out a couple hundred to keep Dave going in.

The support group that takes place at a church halfway across town seems to be helping Dave out a lot more, though. She _(he, you still have to keep reminding yourself from time to time)_ acts a lot happier, being around kids, preteens, and teenagers that understand what he's going through.

You've also been doing some asking around. If Dave wants hormone therapy when he hits the first stages of puberty, you're willing to get it for him, shrink's note or not. You're not sure how you'll pay for it, since the average cost without a note is around a hundred a week for testosterone injections and you're already busting your ass harder than you can remember doing ever before.

Dave's started noticing, too. He stays up late, waiting for you to come home even though you're working longer and longer shifts at both jobs. You barely have enough time to come home and grab a few hours of sleep. Finally, you wind up telling him to just go to bed and you'll wake him up for school when you get home.

One small favor is that at least you can get food stamps. You show the case worker what you're shelling out in medical bills, and she stamps the approval notice on in a heartbeat. Not that it's doing much good – you haven't had a day off in almost two weeks, and there's almost no food left in the apartment because you don't have time to go grocery shopping.

Dave shakes you awake one morning, and you try to focus on him, but everything's bleary and fuzzy. "Bro, you're burning up." Without shades, Dave's worry is pretty transparent.

"Don't matter, little bro. I gotta..." You try to stand up, but your legs don't want to work. Falling flat on your ass isn't going to help you pay for Dave's appointments, for the big psych exam he's got coming up in the next few days.

"You gotta lay your ass back down in bed before you kill yourself, Bro." Dave helps you stand up, only to steer you right back into your bed. "I'm gonna run to the store on the corner and get you some soup. Gimme the card."

"Hell no. I've gotta get to work, sick or not." You try to stand up again, but Dave shoves you back down. You apparently don't have the strength to fight back.

"I already called 'em. You're burning up, Bro, and I'm not gonna let you kill yourself." Dave crosses his arms. He's already 10. Old enough to go out on his own, especially with the training you've been giving him for the past several years.

"Gimme the thermometer."

"You're at 103.1, Bro. I checked while you were sleeping."

"Gimme the goddamn thermometer and a couple aspirin."

Dave shrugs and heads towards the bathroom. When he comes back with both, first thing you do is swallow the aspirin. It makes you want to gag to do it without water, but you'll survive. Hopefully. You pop the thermometer in your mouth and wait for the damn thing to start beeping. With any luck, Dave just did it wrong.

Then again, when you look at the temperature on it, maybe he didn't. "103.8, shit." You know that at 104 degrees, you're in serious need of going to the ER. You can't afford this shit. But you can afford to leave Dave without a brother and caretaker even less.

"Okay, Dave, listen up. You gotta help me get to the hospital, all right?" The closest ER is several blocks away, and there's no way in hell you're going to be able to walk there. No way you're in any shape to drive, either. "Call a cab, and help me get downstairs."

Dave's right on it, and he grabs your wallet out of the pair of jeans you wore to work yesterday. "Okay, Bro." You're in pajama pants and not much else, but it'll have to do. You at least slip on a pair of sneakers and leave the laces undone – there's too much crap on the ground for you to be walking barefoot.

Somehow, you manage to make it all the way to the first floor without breaking your neck. The cab's already out there, the driver looking impatient. You don't even have the energy to flip him off after going down all those stairs, but Dave does it for you. You want to chuckle, to pat her on the head and say how proud you are of her, but it's hard to even keep your eyes open.

~~~~~

The next thing you're aware of, there's a doctor standing over you, shining a light that's way too bright in your eyes. "C'mon, man, get that shit away from me..." Your voice is just the barest whisper, and dimly you wonder if the man even heard you.

"You're a very lucky man, Mr. Strider. Your little brother brought you in just in time." Dave did it. You smile, just a little. It's not like you at all, but your head feels like it's full of cotton and razors. Warm and soft and blurry, but there's splitting pain if you do so much as try to blink.

You close your eyes, trying to dim out the too-bright lights. "So Doc, give it to me straight, here. What's wrong with me and can I go back to work tomorrow?" Your voice is still raspy, and it fucking burns like mad, but in your line of work you don't necessarily need to do much talking.

"Mr. Strider, you will not be going anywhere except home and straight to bed for the next few days. You nearly died, and it's going to take some time for you to recover from a fever this bad."

"Wrong answer, Doc. I gotta keep working. Gotta get my little bro the shit he needs." Jesus fuck, are you panting after saying that? How embarrassingly uncool.

"Luckily for you, your insurance covers your visit here today." Wait, you had insurance? Oh. Right. The public shit you signed up for that didn't cover Dave's shrink. Well, at least it's doing you some good right now.

"So I can go home, right?"

The doctor nods, and sends a nurse off to get some paperwork. She comes back, you sign it, they let you out. Dave's been sitting in the waiting room, watching TV. Since you still can't walk without help, they have you on a wheelchair, and have already called for a cab. Pre-paid him, even. How thoughtful.

"Hey bro."

"Yeah?" Dave looks at you, head tilted just to the side.

"I'm proud of you, man. You really saved my ass." The smile that brightens up his face is one of the best things you think you've ever seen. Honestly, you can't remember the last time he even looked that happy.

You don't care how much it's going to take, you intend to make sure your little brother stays that happy.

~~~~~

When Dave's big test comes, you're still sick and stuck at home. You call up a friend to take him over, and wait for what feels like forever. You can't sleep, and shitty video games and anime aren't enough to distract you. You'd try mixing up some music, but you barely have the strength to make it over there, let alone try to mix things up.

So you get online, with the shitty old computer you managed to make from spare parts. It's a piece of junk, but it's all you've got for right now. There's a forum thread you've been trying to follow, off and on, and it asks about weird kinks. On a whim, you type up your own reply.

The discussion is enough to keep your mind off things for a little while, and you're at least able to relax. You don't even realize that you've fallen asleep until the door slams shut. You jump a little, and adjust your shades in time to turn around and look at Dave standing in the doorway. His face is impassive, covered up by his own shades. "So, what'd they say?"

He shrugs, but you can see the corners of his mouth twitching up just a little. His facade isn't as airtight as he thinks it is. "You even have to ask, Bro? They said I'm so manly that God himself had to put me in a chick's body just so it could be toned down to a level he could tolerate."

You smirk, and wave him over so you can ruffle his hair. "Congrats, man. You decided what you wanna do?" You know that Dave's been trying to decide whether he wants to go for hormone therapy now, or wait until he's done growing. The doctors said that it would be safer overall, since so few studies have been done on how those hormones affect someone just going into puberty.

Dave shrugs. Officially, he can do whatever he wants. It might be less awkward if he goes for hormone therapy, but at the same time, he knows how hard you've been busting your ass to pay for his appointments. At least with his official diagnosis, he doesn't necessarily have to go back to the shrink. You hope.

"Not sure. I really don't wanna go through bleeding for five days a month and having to bind up my chest, but I don't like the thought of shots once a week, either." He frowns. "Besides, they wanna put me through a year of 'real world' experience."

"Fuck that. You've been living as a boy for most of your life. You tell 'em that?" You've seen the prices of those joints – they charge an arm and a leg and could force Dave off of hormone therapy indefinitely if they feel like it. You know that several of the trans men and women you've talked to have talked bad about the local ones.

"Told 'em, they didn't wanna listen. I'm just a kid, what do I know?" You give Dave a hug, wishing you could do more to help him out. If you had all the money in the world, you'd spend every last penny of it just to give him all the stuff he wanted.

"Yeah, well... we're gonna do some asking around, all right little bro? In the meantime, you are starting to get tits. I don't think you really want that, do you?" You point at his chest to emphasize what you're talking about. It's not much, but it is starting to get noticeable.

Dave crosses his arms around his chest, flushing from embarrassment. Yeah, you figured he probably didn't want that being brought up. "Tell you what. We've got some ace bandages in the bathroom, we can make those work until we get you something better." Maybe after he's filled out a little more, so you don't have to keep wasting money on expensive shit.

"Yeah. Sounds good." He doesn't remove his arms from across his chest, though.

Fuck, now you've made him self-conscious. Gotta take his mind off that. "Hey, man, I've been wanting to listen to some sick beats all day. Think you can mix me up some?"

That gets his attention. You let him mess around on your equipment from time to time, but you know how bad he's been wanting his own set. If you had all the money in the world... but you don't, and you both know it. "You sure?"

"Fuck yeah I'm sure, get over there and show me what you got." You turn back to the computer as he starts playing, messing around and just experimenting. He's got talent, definitely. And... maybe, just maybe, you have a way to earn a little disposable income.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, guys? I honestly can't decide whether to let Dave go through HRT or just opt for being totally non-operative for the time being. Either way, it doesn't affect the storyline that drastically. SO, I want you guys to vote on whether Dave should go through HRT (Hormone Replacement Therapy, if you're unfamiliar) or if he should go for trying to pass without making any permanent changes to his body.


	3. Chapter 3

Dave's starting middle school. You haven't had a chance yet to get his name and gender legally changed, and he's not on hormone therapy. Of course, this means that you're going to have to go chat with the teachers and explain a few things. You do not want Dave to flip his shit because one of the teachers starts calling him 'young lady.'

You call up the principal and try to set up an early parent-teacher conference to discuss what's going to happen. You've been lucky so far, since Dave's grade school teachers were so used to referring to him by his chosen name that they ignored the name Evelyn on the rosters. Except for the occasional substitute, of course, but Dave says even the other kids protested that sort of thing.

It's not terribly hard to at least get a talk in with the principal. You manage to clear a day in your schedule – and thank whatever God may or may not exist for being able to quit your day job because your puppet smut sites are at least bringing in enough to replace being a moving man – and make plans to have a chat with the big guy in there.

There is one problem, though. This is Texas, and it's not the most tolerant state in country when it comes to anything outside of the norm. Unfortunately for you and Dave, that also includes guys in a chick's body and vice-versa. You do not want the kid to get targeted just because he happens to be developing a bit of a curve and doesn't have the right set of equipment. You're there for him, but you can't be around all the time to keep him safe.

The principal, thankfully, is a pretty understanding lady. When the day comes around, you get to chatting with her and explaining that yeah, Dave is a bit more than a nickname and as soon as you can find your way through all these legal loopholes then your little brother will be 'officially' a boy. It takes time, yeah, and she gets that. She says she'll have a chat with the teachers who'll be working with Dave and tell them to avoid anything too feminine.

You relax, and say good riddance to that obstacle. You're lucky enough that Dave can get into a local school where he won't have to worry about being shat on for something he can't really help. So you go back to making more puppet pornography in the hopes that maybe your little internet business can get Dave started on his therapy before too long.

~~~~~

Dave comes home from his first day of school pissed right the fuck off. "Hey man, what's gotten into you so bad?" You have a doctor's note for his shades, and gave that to the principal the same day you went in to talk about Dave's more pressing issues. Hopefully the teachers didn't try to take those away from him.

"Mrs. Callenworth kept calling me a fucking girl." Ouch. This is not good.

"Man, I talked with your principal, she said everything would be cool. Tomorrow, we go in and have a little chat, yeah?" Hopefully you can get him to calm down before he does something stupid and winds up hurting himself.

"Yeah, I guess..." You get the feeling that Dave's wincing behind his shades. Maybe there's a bit more to it than just a single teacher refusing to listen to a bit of reason. You put away one of the puppets you've been working on and go over to steer him towards the couch.

"What about the other kids?"

"Called me a freak."

"You beat their asses?"

"Fucking Mrs. Callenworth gave me detention before I could get any damage in. Said 'girls shouldn't be fighting.' She's got more shit in her than a barn full of cows."

He's gotta work on his metaphors, but you get the point easily enough. "We talk with her tomorrow, get this shit straightened out, and see about making sure the other kids leave you the hell alone. Deal?"

"… Yeah. Deal."

~~~~~

Turns out, Elizabeth Callenworth is a tight-assed fundamentalist who thinks that Dave just needs "God's therapy" to straighten things out and brainwash him into being a normal everyday girl. You point out that so-called 'therapy' like that has been proven by the medical community to be a farce and always does more damage than good. She refuses to listen to reason and you want to punch her in the face for it.

But even that's nothing compared to what the other kids at school do to him. Shit smeared over his backpack and textbooks, girls ganging up on him in the locker room, trying to force him out of his clothes (you would've asked that he be moved to the guy's locker room, but you're more afraid of what they'll do to him in there), and the teachers won't do shit to help him out. Even the principal claims there's nothing she can do.

For his part, Dave refuses to lose his cool, but you can tell. He fakes being sick as often as he can get away with, and you let him because you just do not want to take him back to that hellhole of a school. One day, he comes home with his shades all busted up and you can actually see the cuts around one eye while the other is entirely bruised. On top of that, it looks like his nose has been broken and he's most definitely got dried blood crusted around the edges.

"That's it. You're not going back there. I will put you in a private school or teach you shit myself if I have to, but you are not going back to that hellhole."

He's trying not to show any expression on his face, but you can see the tears start to streak down his cheeks anyway. You kneel down and pull him into a hug, promising him that things will get better. He's only been in the sixth grade for three months – you should've pulled him out the minute you found out one of his teachers suggested that the other students try to fix his behavior. He wasn't safe.

You should call a lawyer. Press charges against the school for allowing Dave to come to that kind of danger. But at the same time, you wonder how biased the jury would wind up being. They might feel the same way as fucking Mrs. Callenworth, despite all the shrink's and doctor's notes you've managed to accumulate in Dave's favor.

Maybe it would be better to just... move. Your porno sites can be maintained from anywhere, and the strip club you DJ for is part of a statewide chain. You usher Dave into the bathroom and help him clean up the cuts and bruises, but your mind is somewhere else. Maybe it's time to get online and look up cities and schools that are a bit more friendly towards kids like Dave. You have enough in savings to get you through a move, now that you're bringing in a bit more cash to set aside for emergencies, so it's a pretty tempting thought.

"Hey bro. You wanna move out of this shit city?" You feel maybe it's best to give the kid a chance to voice his opinions before you just upend both your lives and try to settle in somewhere totally new.

Dave looks up at you, his eyes wide. "Fuck, Bro, you serious? Of course I wanna get out of here. When can we pack up and leave?"

You smile and reach out to ruffle his hair. "Whenever you want, man." You'll do whatever it takes to make him happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter-than-usual chapter! I'll try to make it up with the next one, I swear!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, making up for my short chapter 3 with an extra long chapter 4

You're not at all sorry about the decision to move. Overall, it's been infinitely better for Dave to get into a school that won't tolerate bullying or teachers that blatantly try to force their opinions on their students. Private school's expensive as shit, but you're still managing to keep up. Maybe even get a little ahead, since you're not working your ass off quite so much anymore, and have a bit of time to spend with the kid for a change.

Right now, though, he's in his room playing on his Xbox or chatting up one of his online friends. You, meanwhile, have a lady friend to entertain. And you are really, really getting into this chick. She's pretty, she can keep up with your banter, and hell she even likes your sword collection ("so what if they're shitty, they're just decorative anyways, right?"). So of course there's an interruption right when you've just finished tying her up to the bed and have your pants around your ankles.

An interruption of Dave proportions.

"Bro, I'm bleeding."

"Man, I'm busy, we've got band-aids." Not now, please not now. You're too cool to show your embarrassment at having your kid brother walking in on you, though.

"Not that kind of bleeding you dipshit."

You groan and pull your pants back up to turn around and look at the little man. "Then what... Oh." You've gone over this whole thing. Dave knew what he was getting into when he said he wasn't quite ready for hormone therapy yet. But shit, you didn't think it'd hit him this early. And by the wide, uncovered eyes and bloody khaki pants he's sporting, you don't think he figured on it either.

"Yeah, oh. Can we ask your lady friend to borrow something or am I gonna have to go down to the corner store and humiliate myself looking for the little girl's special needs." He's getting better at keeping his voice flat, even if you can see him shaking and ready to cry. You've never been more proud of him than right now.

"Go take a shower man, you'll feel better when you're clean. Throw your pants in the sink and let them soak while you're in there, I'll see what I can do." You wait until he leaves before turning to your entertainment for the night.

"You got anything for when you're on the rag in that massive thing you call a purse?"

She rolls her eyes. "I thought you had a little brother."

"I do. He had the misfortune of being stuck with ovaries instead of a dick, and he's still got more balls than most guys I know."

She makes a little noise in the back of her throat and pulls at her restraints. "Lemme go and I'll dig my emergency stash out. It should hold her—"

"Him."

"Whatever. It'll hold both of you until you can run and get some proper stuff." She rubs at her wrists the moment she's got them free, and you toss her the gigantic purse she came over with. After a few minutes of digging, she throws a small package of tampons at you. You hold them out at arm's length, not really wanting to think about the whole thing, but you guess you don't really have much of a choice.

"Man, this is sick. Really seriously unhealthy, and not in any good kind of way."

"Don't know why you're humoring her with all this."

Oh god, not another one of these arguments. You rub at your nose, trying to stay calm and ward off the headache that's going to be inevitable at this point. Much as you've gotten along with this chick so far, you're perfectly willing to throw her out for being yet another insensitive bitch. You've lost more potential dates that way, you think, than any other kind of nitpicking.

"Don't even start, all right? I'll give you five bucks to run down to the drugstore at the corner and get Dave a decent supply. I don't want to go in and deal with this shit right now. My little brother needs me."

"Your little _sister_ needs you, you mean. She's got the body, she's going through puberty. Are you seriously going to let her go through with this sick delusion?"

"It is not a delusion, all right? I have papers, I have a fucking diagnosis of Gender Identity Disorder for him. Next year he's even getting his name and gender legally changed. You want to tell me how to raise my little brother, you can get the fuck out of my apartment right now and don't even bother coming back."

She stares at you, then starts pulling her clothes on. For good measure, she even snatches the fucking tampons out of your hand and stuffs them back in her purse. "I should call CPS. This is sick."

No one threatens to call child protection on you, and by god if it wouldn't land you in jail, you'd smack her right across the face for even daring to suggest it. "Get out. I don't care if the only reason I brought you over is to get laid, I ever see you around here again, I will personally beat your ass."

She hustles on out the door, and slams it behind her. You think you might hear her yell something, but the door between you muffles it just enough so you can't understand it. Your shades come off so you can rub at your temples and try to get the headache to go away. The apartment has to start getting cleaned up, just in case child protection does come by. And you are never, ever bringing one of your one night stands home ever again after this.

You knock at the door to the bathroom, and try to listen for Dave's voice above the sound of the water. "She gone?"

"Yeah, she's gone. Listen, I want you to stay in the shower while I go down to the drugstore. Door's staying locked, you know the drill if someone tries to come in." Toss on whatever clothing is nearby, no matter if it's filthy or clean, and grab the nearest sword. There's at least one in every room of the apartment, even the bathroom. That one gets cleaned every day just to make sure it doesn't rust.

"Sure thing Bro." You can hear the shower turn down to its minimum pressure, and smirk as you head on out the door.

Of course, the drugstore has ungodly amounts of feminine hygiene products. Pads, tampons, ones for overnight (you grab those without hesitation), ones for light or heavy flow... God you are learning way more about a woman's period than you ever even wanted to know. Maybe in the next year or so you'll be able to start Dave on hormone therapy so neither of you has to put up with this shit anymore.

Finally, you give in and ask someone what to get. It is, honestly, ridiculous the amount of shit you have to get, and you stock up on as much of it as you can so you can avoid doing this for as long as humanly possible.

Dave's still in the shower when you return, and you call out a casual "Hey bro, I'm back," to let him know that you're not some creep intruding with hostile or perverted intent.

You knock at the bathroom door again, and wait for an invitation inside. Nothing comes for several minutes, so you knock again. "Come on man, I know it's sick, but we gotta take care of this, yeah?"

"… Yeah. Okay." The door opens up and Dave's standing there with a towel around his whole body. It covers up the barest hint of the curves he's starting to get, but it can't hide his face getting softer, more feminine. Maybe you can look into the prices for hormone therapy right now, while he still has a chance at getting a square jaw, of hitting a good growth spurt, of his voice changing like a normal teenage boy's.

"All right, so... Yeah." Even you can't quite hide the hint of disgust as you open up the tampon package. You know the theory behind it, but not really the practice. "Long story short, little man, you gotta stick one of these up inside you, and they'll absorb the blood for a few hours."

"What." He looks up at you, totally unable to keep his poker face up at that knowledge. "I gotta stick that inside my cunt and let it _sit_ there?"

"Yeah I know, disgusting isn't it?"

"Won't it, like, fall out? What if it goes up too far? How do I get it out? What if it moves and I get more blood on my pants?"

God, you don't know the answer to any of this. You've tried to avoid finding out for most of your life, and you still have the urge to just point Dave at the internet and let him figure it out. But you need to be supportive, so you're going to brave through it, no matter how nasty it is. "Shit man, I don't know. But I did get some pads if it, like, leaks or something." Two sets, one for overnight and one for the daytime. Dave's an active kid, so you got one advertised to stay in place. You really, really hope it does just that.

"Uh, Bro."

"What."

"I don't think my boxers are cut out for pads."

Goddammit, more embarrassing shit you have to buy. And you can never find panties in plain white, either. They've all got girly flowery designs or lace or are bright fucking pink. Never, ever a plain pair of white skivvies. "We'll worry about that in the morning, okay? I really don't want to go in to Wal-Mart this late at night looking for little girl's underwear. They'll think I'm a perv."

"Bro, you are a perv."

"Yeah, but not that kind." He laughs, easing up a little bit. "Man, don't you have briefs around here somewhere? Use those for the night instead of your boxers. We'll do laundry tomorrow and head out to Wal-Mart to get you some ironically frilly lacy panties to get up in a bunch, and maybe stop by Denny's or something for brunch while we're out." Not necessarily in that order, true, but Dave already knows that.

"Yeah, whatever." He's stopped freaking out so much. That's good, because you were pretty sure you were about to flip your shit at the rate things were going. With him calm, you'll be able to keep your cool. For a little while, at least.

~~~~~

Over the next few days you really start to bust your ass on cleaning the place up. You're not taking any chances in case the CPS really do stop in for a visit. Hell, you even go out shopping for healthy foods. It's when you're coming back from a grocery trip that you see Dave just coming home from school with some dorky-looking kid with buck teeth and glasses.

"Hey little bro, who's the derp?"

"Bro, this is my friend John Egbert. John, this is my Bro." Dave has his hands shoved in his pockets, trying to be cool about having brought a friend home.

"Cool. Egderp, you can help Dave carry in the rest of the groceries." First time Dave's ever brought anyone over. You're proud of him, and a little relieved; you were worried he wasn't making any friends except online.

"Okay, sure!" For all he's so unironically derpy, John's got a lot of spirit and energy. He challenges Dave to a race down the stairs, and you call out for them not to do something stupid like break their necks. You open up the apartment and start putting away your armful of groceries as the kids bring their armfuls up and dump them on the counter.

"C'mon, Egbert, I'll show you what Bro got me for Christmas." You raise an eyebrow. You didn't get him much, just an outdated DJ set only slightly better than yours. You'd found it at an estate auction and nabbed it up for a mere couple hundred. It made Dave lose all pretense of being cool and call you the best big brother ever for getting it for him. Some of the best money you've ever spent, in all honesty.

You can hear Dave laying out the derp some sick beats, freestyling just to impress. And then you hear that old keyboard that came along with it start to play. You have to assume it's John, since it's way too good to be Dave – he never could quite get the hang of the keys.

The music plays through you, too, and you allow yourself to move along with it as you finish putting away all the food. It all goes to shit when, surprise surprise, there's a knock at the door. You keep your cool when you open it up to find a couple of government goons standing there with an official badge. "Child protective services. Are you Ambrose Strider?"

"Yeah. Call me Bro." You figure you should at least try and be polite, give off a good impression. The better you can show that you're not fucking Dave up, the sooner these guys can leave and get off your back.

"I'm Susan Haliburton, this is my colleague Brian Schuster. We're here about your sister, Evelyn."

You hold up your hand, trying to keep them from talking too loudly, even though you're reasonably sure that John and Dave can't hear these guys over the music they're making together. "First off, it's Dave. Secondly, _he_ has Gender Identity Disorder and I've got the papers to prove it. Thirdly, you call him Evelyn in front of the kid he brought over from school, he will flip his shit and you will regret it. Are we clear on that?"

Miss Haliburton there looks a bit put out, but you give props to her partner for taking it in stride. "Very well, Mister Strider."

"I told you, call me Bro."

"All right... Bro. May we take a look around?" How kind of them to have not stepped in yet. You move aside and motion for them to take a look around. Thank god you had the foresight to get the place cleaned up. Maybe that's even part of the reason Dave brought his friend over. It might be a bit of a hassle, but you figure you might be able to work with not having it be a total pigsty in here all the time.

"Feel free. Lemme just pull Dave away from his friend for a few moments, okay? I gotta ask him something."

Both of them look like they swallowed a lemon or something when you say that, but neither of them tries to stop you. You barge in on Dave and John, jamming away like there's no tomorrow. They look like they're having a blast, and you hate to interrupt. "Hey Dave, I gotta talk with you. Alone for a moment."

Dave turns the volume way down and tosses a set of headphones to John. "Here, knock yourself out for a few minutes so we don't have to listen to that awful racket you call music."

John laughs, the little derp, but puts the headphones on and starts playing again. You pull Dave into your room, not quite trusting the other kid to not listen in. "How much does your friend in there know about you?" According to the school records, Dave is a boy. He's been passing pretty well, too, so you've got a good guess as to exactly how little John knows about him.

"Jack shit. What's up, Bro?"

"CPS is here, thanks to that bitch that was over here the other night. I don't think you want the derp to know you've got a chick's body. Probably not right now, at least."

Dave shrugs. "Eh, knowing John he'd probably just laugh it off and ask me what it's like to have tits. But yeah, I don't really wanna tell him yet." The unspoken 'if ever' is there, in his voice and his body language. It's subtle, just like you taught him to be, but you can still tell even if no one else will be able to.

"All right. They probably wanna talk to you about me raising you. Just stick to the truth and it'll be fine." It's not like you abuse the kid, or deprive him of anything. Sure, the place is usually a mess, but it's at least presentable if not spotless by now. You feed him, keep him healthy... What could they possibly have against you aside from that bitch called them for?

"Hello David. I'm Brian from Child Protective Services. What can you tell me about your brother?"

"Best bro in the world. Couldn't ask for a better one." Oh god he's turning on the charm. Not his usual flat monotone, but the sickeningly sweet kid-charm. You have no clue where he learned it from, because you sure as hell didn't teach him that, but it has always made teachers and adults everywhere melt. Too bad he won't be able to keep hold of that much longer, although maybe you can help him refine it into a way to seduce whoever he wants into bed with him.

"I'm glad to hear that. Do you know what your brother does to make money?" Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit they _know_ you run a porno site and they want to see if Dave does. Of course Dave knows, he's even helped you design some of your more popular puppets.

"Does a bit of DJing at nights, and he runs some, like, plushie store online." You gotta hand it to the kid, he does not miss a beat. You can see Brian over there scribbling something down, and the chick who was so offended at finding out Dave was a boy is heading into your room.

"S'cuse me, but Dave doesn't really go into my room that much, and sure as hell doesn't do it without me in there." You stare her down, looking just over the top of your shades to really intimidate her.

"This is an impressive sword collection. Does Dave play with them at all?"

"Man those are just a bunch of shitty-ass decorative swords." You walk over to the nearest set and pull one out. "See, too dull to do anything." On this set, at least, but you're not going to let her know about the others.

"I'll be asking Evelyn about that."

"Dave. You call him Evelyn and he will cuss you out under the best of circumstances."

She gives you this little scowl and keeps going over your room. It's the worst room in the house right now, but it doesn't have food growing new forms of life anywhere around, so at least it's not hazardous. Unless some of your laundry's been sitting there for longer than you remember it being, but that's not a crime.

Susan sniffs a little, then goes into Dave's room. John's still in there, jamming away on the keyboard, but he looks up at the strange face and pulls the headphones off. "Oh... hi?"

"Chill, little man. Someone thought I was messing Dave up and this lady here s'just gonna look the place over and see that I'm doing fine." You glare at her from behind your shades, since she can't tell the difference in your expression otherwise.

"Oh. Okay!" John gives a giant buck-toothed grin and puts the headphones back on to start playing again. You see him turn the volume dial down, though, and there's a preference for playing something a lot slower. He's trying to listen in, and you silently put a tick of approval in his favor for being sneaky.

The woman pokes and prods, and starts to mess with the turntables when Dave walks in the room. "What the fuck are you doing messing with my shit, lady." His deadpan voice hides the anger you know is simmering right underneath. Dave's always been a bit protective of his stuff, even with you; having a total stranger come in and mess with one of his prize possessions is not going to let him keep his cool for very long.

"Now that's no way for a young la..."

"Twelve year olds pick up all sorts of nasty language from everywhere, so I'm only gonna say this once. Get. The fuck. Outta my room." He reaches for his bokuto, brandishing it threateningly. John pulls the headphones off, eyes wide and those buck teeth chewing on his lip.

"Dave, what's going on?"

"Nothing Egbert. This lady was just leaving. Right Bro?"

You nod and motion towards the door. The other guy is tolerable, but damn this bitch nearly broke your brother's cover. You're beginning to wonder if you just have bad luck with women, period. You wait until the door's closed and Dave starts cranking up the volume on his turntables before looking at Susan with a smirk. "Satisfied? I told you he'd flip his shit if you tried breaking his cover. He's passing at school, his friend doesn't know he's transgendered, and he sure as hell isn't ready to tell the kid that just yet. Now, I could probably sue for that fuckup in there. Emotional grievances, because he's happy in his private school and I had to move away from Texas to get him away from bullying. This is the first time he's ever brought one of his friends over and I'd like to keep seeing that kid over because it makes my little bro happy. Finish up your goddamn report and get the fuck out of my apartment."

Susan turns white as a sheet, and nods before meeting back up with her partner. They have a little chat, and Brian says that they need you to sign a release on Dave's medical forms. Once they take a good look at them, they'll send you a nice little note telling you whether you passed their inspection. You don't even need to wonder – the threat of a lawsuit isn't going to have them coming back any time soon once they see you're clean.

You really, really hope, at least.

~~~~~

The Egbert kid keeps coming over. Dave really seems to like him, and you keep the place cleaned up just so John isn't tripping over puppet ass and swords every time he stops in. You make sure they do their homework, and that John's dad picks him up at seven sharp, every day. At least Dave has a friend, you keep telling yourself.

When Dave's thirteenth birthday rolls around, Egbert gives him this shitty pair of aviator sunglasses. Just like Ben Stiller wore in that shitty-ass movie. Dave shows you a certificate of authenticity. Not just like the pair of sunglasses, _the_ pair of sunglasses. John assures the both of you that they're ironic on some level. You both know they are, but it's fun to watch Egbert faltering and trying so hard to be cool.

Dave switches his old shades, the ones you gave him years ago, for those dorky aviators. You're all right with that – it gives him his own style. Kid's gotta step out from under your shadow at some point, after all, and you give him subtle encouragement.

And one day, he drops a bombshell on you.

John isn't over for a change. Dave's in his room, hunched over his turntables. His rhythm's off, the music just isn't coming naturally to him. What comes out is a chaotic, melancholy wreck. "Hey man, what's up?"

"Tried to kiss John."

Welp. Your little bro's gay. That's fine. Compared to finding out he wasn't a girl, coming out as gay, or maybe even bisexual, is relatively tame in comparison. "So?"

"So he panicked and pushed me away. Said he wasn't a homosexual." Oh. Ouch.

Wait.

 _Oh._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, especially compared to that last one. I wanted to get this bit out of the way!
> 
> Also, enjoy Dave's POV for a switch! :D

Your name is Dave Strider, and you are about to totally flip your shit. There's this new kid, Camden, who somehow manages to get under your skin and push all the wrong buttons. You're apparently not passing as well as you thought you were, or you're just hitting a point where puberty is really starting to separate the guys from the gals and you're getting stuck on the wrong side of the road.

"Camden, if you don't shut up I am going to shove this tray so far up your ass you'll be shitting hot fresh cafeteria food for the rest of your life. People will be lining up behind you just so they don't have to spend money on their school lunches." You brandish said plastic lunch tray in his direction, waiting for the brat to just leave.

"I'd like to see you try." Camden is on the junior wrestling team. Like it or not, even with all the training Bro did with you, you're still physically weaker than him. And after the last tussle that landed you both in detention, he definitely knows that and is fully prepared to take advantage of it.

Rose sets a hand on your shoulder, pulling you away to join her, Jade, and John at your usual table. "Dave, this would be a good time to walk away. I can't imagine that your brother would appreciate you getting kicked out of school with the tuition being so high." You frown, just the barest hint of your mouth turning down at the corners, and allow yourself to be led away.

"One of these days I'm gonna kick his ass so hard his grandkids will have my footprint embedded in their asscheeks. Hell, even his great-great grandkids' grandkids are gonna have Strider feet imprinted on their asses and are gonna swap stories about exactly how their dumbfuck ancestor managed to get them all blessed with my glorious foot on their right asscheek."

"Why their _right_ asscheek, Dave?" John's been a bit skittish around you ever since that kiss, but you've been trying to fight off any real changes in your friendship. At least with Rose and Jade around, he's a bit more relaxed, but he refuses to come over anymore.

"Because, Egbert, I'm right-footed and when I bend Camden over to deliver the ass kicking of his life, it's going to hit right in the middle of his right asscheek."

Jade giggles, and pulls you to sit down next to her. "Can I watch when you do it? It'll be the coolest ass kicking ever!"

You shake your head at Jade's enthusiasm and pat her on the head. "Cool it, Harley, I know you've totally got the hots for me but I've gotta keep my reputation intact. No PDAs, ya dig?"

"I fail to see what an outdated piece of technology has to do with Jade hanging on your arm at the lunch table." Rose, of course. You're about to snark back at her, but John interrupts with a nervous laugh.

"John, man, what is with you lately?" You turn to stare at him, casually tugging your arm away from Jade so you don't have a permanent attachment. Of course, you both know what his problem is, but you've reached an unspoken agreement to just act like the whole thing never happened. Even if it does make your chest ache, and not just from your binder.

"Sorry Dave, I just..." Whatever he's about to say is cut off by the lunch bell ringing. Probably a good thing, really, because John was probably only going to embarrass the both of you by saying something ill-timed and stupid.

"Time for another boring day of sex ed, huh?" You smirk at the small joke – the couple weeks they've allotted to sexual education have been party to some of the most hilarious classroom hijinks and jokes so far during the school year.

"Yes, another day of you and the other boys drawing phallic imagery on your notes and sniggering like you've come across some vast cosmic joke." Rose smirks in turn and you turn around to lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Rose, you can dissect me and my love of cocks all day long, but it's nothing to the field day a real shrink would have with your obsession with tentacles. You sure you're not just inwardly begging for a piece of Strider action?" The very thought of a sexual encounter makes you nervous, though. One of the reasons you've been trying to keep Jade from being too touchy-feely. But Rose knows you well enough to call your bluff.

"I'm quite certain that I do not now, nor will I ever, beg for a piece of Strider action. I'm just not interested."

"Whoa whoa whoa, back up. You saying you're a les? Because seriously, that's kinda hot. Can I watch you and Jade making out?"

"DAAAVE!" Jade shrieks and starts hitting your shoulder with her science book. "That's not even funny!" John's doing this dorky giggle-snort and trying not to sound like he's laughing. It's the best thing you think you've ever heard, and you're glad you can at least still get him to make it.

Rose is totally unfazed. "Did you ever think perhaps that I'm simply not interested in you? Perhaps I find John a more appealing choice as a boyfriend."

You know it's just a joke, and you manage to keep your poker face up, but you can't help the surge of jealousy you feel. "What? But... But Rose, I don't know..." True to form, John's nervous and blushing and probably thinking why he's gotta get all the attention from his best pals.

"I'm just using you as an example, John." Rose smiles, and your best bro visibly relaxes, but that blush is still there and going all the way up to his ears. "In truth, I'm undecided on my sexual orientation, but I am most definitely not interested in you, Dave."

"Someone call an ambulance, I think Lalonde has just sent me straight to the burn ward. I'm gonna need some life support, and they'll be peeling skin off my ass just to keep the scarring to a minimum." They all laugh at that, and you smirk a little as you walk into health class and settle in for an amusing lecture on STDs or some shit like that. Not from the teacher, of course. Well, not directly, anyway; his reactions to what the other kids say are what makes sex ed hilarious.

Mr. Roberts tries to get the class to settle down and only partially succeeds. It's about as good as he ever gets though, so he starts writing something on the board. You snort when you see GLBT written in varying colors across the whiteboard. Oh, the irony. "Can anyone tell me what this stands for?"

Camden, naturally, is the first to speak up. "Yeah, guacamole, bacon, lettuce, and tomato." About half the class laughs, but you're pleased to see that your close pals are unmoved. Well, except for Jade, but she's Jade. The girl giggles at everything.

"Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual, and Transgender, smartass." Of course sex ed would be covering such a touchy subject for you, and of course you and Camden have health class together. This is a recipe for a disaster of biblical proportions, and you are not the kind of person who'd be saved by the grace of God. You doubt Camden is, either, which means the only option left is for things to spiral on down into the depths of Satan's asshole.

"Very good, Dave. And yes, today's lesson is on sexuality." He starts going off into mechanics rather than semantics, which is totally cool in your book. The less you have to hear 'gays are evil' versus 'but people are just born that way,' the better. You just wish Camden would stop making his stupid witty remarks. Maybe if you just... went over and punched him in the face, you might be able to break his nose.

This is all pretty dull for you, with the only real comments that would otherwise be entertainment coming up as insults that make you want to go hang yourself. And then... the T part comes up. You're careful to keep your expression as perfectly bored out of your skull, but you pay very careful attention to the reactions of your classmates.

"But, Mr. Roberts, why don't they just act like they're supposed to? A girl has boobs, a guy has balls and a di--"

"Language, Stephanie. And as for why they don't just act 'like they're supposed to,' it can vary from person to person. It's called Gender Dysphoria. We don't know why it happens, it just does. Much like autism, in that regard." Oh yeah, you'd covered some mental disorders earlier in the year – Rose soaked it all up like a tentacle-covered sponge. The autism reference makes a little bit of sense, in a roundabout sort of way. You guess. Science can't explain everything, after all.

And then Camden chimes in. "Yeah, but you'd be able to tell if you met one. It's all obvious and shit, girls with deep voices and guys with boobs." Maybe you can follow him after school. You know he walks home. Just stalk him until after you're off school grounds and then sneak up on him and give a good swift kick to the balls.

You're about to say something, but Rose, of all people, beats you to it. "You would be surprised, Camden, at who might be passing as the opposite gender right in this very school."

What.

You turn to stare at Rose, ice cold chills of panic running down your back. How long have you not been passing? Sure, Rose is a lot more perceptive than most of the other kids in your class, but you'd figured you were doing all right so far.

You have to know how she knew.


	6. Chapter 6

Getting Rose to stop and talk to you after school gets out for the day isn't that hard. She's always been ready to psychoanalyze you, so if that's what she wants, then she'll get a chance to actually do it for a change. "Lalonde, what the fuck was up with what you said earlier." You don't ask, not really. Keeping your southern drawl monotone is the only real way to not flip out.

"David, I have no idea what you're talking about. Do try to be a little more specific." She smirks at you, and she knows damn well exactly what you're talking about. You wait until you're certain no one else is around to overhear.

"Don't fuck with me, Lalonde. _How long have you known?_ " Your shades slip down on your nose, and you treat her to a full on gaze of sincerity and aggression and sure maybe even a little bit of panic slipped in for good measure.

"I assure you, at no point have I ever referred to you in my conversations unless it was to you directly or to one of our mutual friends." Her eyes widen, and maybe she really doesn't know, but that thought goes right out the window the moment it gets into your head.

You grab her by the arm, all but snarling, and the next words out of your mouth are barely even disguised, have a pitch that's slightly too high. "Don't play your passive-aggressive bullshit with me, Rose, how long have you known?"

For once, she's speechless, her mouth open in a bit of shock. "This is about my comment in health class, isn't it?"

"No fucking shit!"

She swallows, and looks you straight in the eye, shoving your hand off her arm and dropping... fuck, something. You're not sure what. "I assure you, Dave, I was not referring to you in class. I had no idea, honestly. You're actually passing quite well, I'm impressed." She smiles, then. Not one of her snarky smiles, but an honest-to-god genuine smile.

You realize that you're shaking, and you shove your hands in your pockets to keep her from seeing the very much noticeable trembling there. "Thanks, I guess. But if you didn't know I was passing, then who the fuck were you talking about?"

"Myself, of course."

Now it's your turn to stare. But your shades are nicely in place, so you don't have to show it so obviously. "Seriously? But you've already got a rack. You on hormones? Wait. Wait, this explains your whole tentacle fetish, doesn't it? I fucking knew it, there had to be some reason you're obsessed with tentacley doom. You want a pussy so you can dress up in a Japanese schoolgirl outfit and get gang-banged by your zoologically dubious buddies."

"I would imagine this partially explains your juvenile obsession with phallic imagery, as well." She's got that smartass look on her face, and you shove her to the side and cross your arms over your chest.

"Shut up, Lalonde."

"You were the one that wanted to try and psychoanalyze me. Seems only fair that I do the same to you."

"Ha fucking ha. You had your laughs, now go home to Mommy and start knitting like a good little girl."

She pauses at that, then pulls out her cell phone. "Hello Mother. No, I won't be right home. I'm going to do homework with my friend. No, not Jade. Not John, either. Yes, David." She rolls her eyes at something her mother says before hanging up.

"What'd she say?"

"She said to use protection, if I was so intent on going home with a boy of known dubious reputation."

You can't help but laugh at that, just a little. "Okay, cool. Now you finally get to meet Bro."

"John has told me a lot about him. He's intimidated, I think."

"Bro has that effect on people."

"Is Bro his real name? For that matter, what is your birth name?"

"His real name's Ambrose, and he'll punch you for using it even if you are a girl. And my real name doesn't matter, I'm getting it changed next month."

"Your legal gender as well?"

"Yup."

Rose hums for a few moments, walking alongside you in not-quite-silence. It's pretty comfortable, though, now that you know you really have something in common with her. "Kind of ironic how we both got stuck in the wrong bodies. Man, if I'd known earlier I'd have started looking for ways to switch our brains around. That would've been a lot easier than binding and hormones and all that other fun shit."

"I suppose you would see the irony in the situation. Have you told John? He's been acting strange around you lately." She would notice that. Jade was either oblivious or trying to keep things from falling apart in her own way, just the same as Rose apparently has been.

"Uh, no. I did something stupider than that."

"What could you possibly do that's worse than coming out to your best friend?"

"I dunno. Kiss him, maybe?"

"… Ah. Yes, I suppose that would pose a few problems. It certainly explains his awkwardness around you lately. Perhaps you should tell him. He may feel less awkward."

"Yeah, no. Then he'd be thinking of me as the chick in the relationship and stop hitting me in the shoulder. That shit is so uncool it's roasting in the deepest levels of hell begging for mercy."

"You've thought about it, though, haven't you?"

"Course I have. You don't just go up to your best bro, kiss him, and have him say he's not a homosexual without thinking about it. I could grow my hair out a little, stop binding my breasts, wear some girl's jeans to show off the goddamn curves I'm getting in, and he'd probably start chasing after me in a heartbeat." You've seriously thought about doing just that, too. It would get John to be with you, but at the same time it would force you to be miserable for living out what you know is a lie.

Rose looks like she's going to say something, but Bro has the best timing. He's just getting back from a music run right as you're getting home, judging by the armful of records he has. "Shit, man, you're bringing girls home now? Warn me next time, I'll go out and buy you condoms before hand." Rose turns red, and you just smirk. Even if your face feels like it's burning up, too, it's good to see Lalonde caught off guard.

"I assure you, I have no interest in Dave. I merely followed along so we could discuss an incident in health class."

Incident. Wrong goddamn thing for Rose to say, because you can see Bro frowning at that. "Rose is like me, Bro. Just opposite." You want to reassure him that nothing's actually wrong, and no you didn't get ganged up on again. Thankfully, it works. Bro shrugs his shoulders and leads the both of you upstairs.

"So, Rose, right? You got a last name to go with that?"

"Lalonde. My birth name is Ross, but my mother was the one with the brilliant idea of changing my name by only one letter when I came out to her. It involved a long series of passive-aggressive battles and several sets of refrigerator magnets."

Bro actually chuckles at that. "You happy with her decision?"

"Happier than I was as Ross, at the very least. How did Dave come by his name?"

You groan and shake your head. You've heard Bro telling this to people. It's the stupidest story, and it never changes – but this time he surprises you. It's not the one you remember him making up for other people. "Well, little dude came home one day and just up and said he was a boy. Four years old, said to call him Dave. So it was just a nickname for the longest time. I thought he was just going through a phase."

Rose turns and looks at you, curious. You just shrug – it could be the truth, but hell, if it is, you were only four years old. You don't really know how you came by the name, just that you've been going by it for almost as long as you can remember. "Hey, at least you didn't get the shitty pet bird story he usually tells. Hell if I know whether he's telling the truth or not." With Bro, it's hard to tell sometimes.

"So I take it the 'phase' ideation passed by?"

"Why d'you think we moved out here? Texas was a shithole. I thought Dave wasn't gonna come home one day."

You try to hide a shudder at those memories. "He ain't even joking about that. Anyone ever tries telling you kids are sweet little things, kick 'em in the nads."

"I believe Camden would be a good example."

"The brat Dave's always complaining about?" Bro smirks, and you take the liberty of tossing a stray, empty box of cereal at him for that comment.

"Your rivalry with Camden is impressive. I was not aware you of all people could hate someone so vehemently after just a few days of knowing them. And here you are, him spreading rumors about you and you wanting nothing more than to... how did you phrase it earlier?"

"Kick his ass so hard his grandkids will have Strider feet imprinted on them." You remember that phrasing. You were pretty proud of it, actually.

Rose grins and shakes her head. "A bit more eloquently worded, perhaps, but yes, that was the general idea. I believe you might have some help, as well as some relief from his rumors, if you were to start taking hormones."

You grumble and search through the fridge for some apple juice, pouring yourself a full glass and showing a bit of kindness to the lady in the house and pouring Rose a smaller glass, too. "Ain't ready for hormones. It just..."

"Little bro, if it's about cash, we've got more than enough to cover it. We just need to get the prescription and all." Well... okay, that was one reason you'd been holding off. You're not stupid, you know hormones are a pricey monthly expense to have to deal with. But there's more to it than that.

"I'm just not ready, all right?" It's too big a step. Admittedly, you're not fond of your body, of being stuck with breasts and a girl's privates, but taking hormones to change that is...

Well, honestly, it's fucking scary. But you're not about to tell that to anyone, least of all Bro. Striders aren't supposed to get scared – you're too old for that shit. Still, it's scary enough that you've been holding off on trying to start the changes.

"Cool it, Dave. Totally up to you, okay? You don't have to take hormones if you don't want to. I just thought you'd be a bit more comfortable." Comfortable is an understatement. You'd love to be able to really start building muscle, to have your voice change, to not develop curves and have your goddamn period stop. It's just a really big change, and it's going to take a while. It's not instant. If it was, you might be more open to it all.

"It's all right, Dave. Whenever you are ready, my mother is capable of writing the prescriptions necessary. She does for me, and she can keep an eye on your progress. It's not so bad once you take the first step." Rose sits next to you, ignoring her apple juice.

"Lalonde, I gave you apple juice from my personal stash. If you're not gonna drink it, hand it over."

"Not a chance in hell, Strider."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohgod so much dialogue. This is the most dialogue I think I've put in this fic so far!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, I just can't stay away from this. Have a short chapter.
> 
> Also, if you weren't already aware, I wrote a side-story called Some Sick Dream. It is relevant to the plot, but totally optional if wet dreams, smut, and/or incest squick you out.

You're actually pretty pleased when you get to meet Rose's mother. She's a sexy, classy lady and having her offer to prescribe hormones (for free, even) and keep up with his bloodwork at a reduced cost... Well, you're not about to say no to that offer. Or any excuse to hang out with a hot doctor lady.

Rose hanging out with Dave is a good thing, too. She's helped him to ease into his own transition a little more easily than the local GLBT groups. Maybe because she's a friend, and his own age. Whatever it is, you offer to take him out for dinner when he tells you he wants to start hormone therapy. His choice.

It's when you're sitting alone with him at the table of a local seafood restaurant, shoveling shrimp into your mouth while he pokes at some fish that you realize he's a little out of it. You haven't spent much time with him lately, because he's either got Rose over, visiting John, or locked up in his room mixing music or doing homework. And you've honestly let things slide on your end, too, with DJing at the local strip club managing to land you better gigs in other places.

"Hey little man, what's up?"

He moves his head up to look at you, shrugs, and goes back to staring at fish that he's hardly touched. "It's nothing."

"Bullshit it's nothing. You should be happy to be starting hormones, right?" If Dave's not comfortable with it, he doesn't have to go through with it. It's always been his choice.

This time at least, you see a glimmer of emotion. He puts his fork down and stares at you, shades to shades. "'Course I'm happy to be starting hormones. I'm thrilled about it! I'm going to actually start being who I'm supposed to."

You smile a little at the heated tone of his voice. It's like he's daring you to tell him to stop it, because he's made up his mind and he's definitely going through with it. At least it's not that, which is some small relief off your shoulders. "So tell me what's got you picking at your favorite fish like a little kid that doesn't wanna eat."

Dave shrugs again, but starts eating instead of just moving the food around his plate. You remember, very suddenly, when he was five and pulled that stunt, trying to make it look like there was less food there and fool you into thinking he'd eaten some of it. And now he's almost fifteen.

It hurts. You'll never admit it, but it hurts to think of him as a little kid when now... now he's almost an adult. He's a young man, for crissakes. And Dave would probably try to punch you for reminiscing out loud. You smile just a little and fling a piece of shrimp over onto his plate.

"The fuck...? Oh it's on, Bro." Whatever he's been thinking of, it's forgotten in the heat of a challenge, the both of you flinging food at each other like five-year-olds and just being brothers.

You wonder how long it'll last.


	8. Chapter 8

Dave wants to go to this stupid school formal winter dance. The Snowball they call it. Stupid, yeah, but it's important to him, so you help him out. Learning to make your own puppets has helped to teach you how to sew, so you assure your little bro that he's going to have the best custom tux (none of this rental crap) at the dance. He's had a few outfits custom made for him, so you've at least learned how to make sure to flatter the kind of figure he _wants_ to have as opposed to the gentle curves that he does.

After just turning fifteen, he's shooting up like a weed, too. He got on hormones soon enough to be a bit of a late bloomer, but not all that far behind most of his classmates. It's good for him, and it really helps him to fit in better and just be more confident all around.

"Hey Bro?" You feel weird whenever he tries to talk to you while you're sewing, because somehow you've picked up the habit of holding on to pins in your mouth. Not cool, but it can pass as ironic.

"Sup?" Your usual greeting is mumbled and gains a lisp, because like hell you're going to let these pins fall out onto the nice black expanse of Dave's soon-to-be tux.

He moves closer, and you can tell he's uneasy. He's been tense around you for a while, and so far you haven't been able to tease out why. With any luck, though, he'll open up about it eventually.

"I'm gonna be dancing."

"Yeah, so?"

"Bumpin' and grindin'."

"'Kay."

"Maybe you're forgetting, Bro, but I'm seriously lacking in the dick department. The last thing I need is for my dancing partner to head for third base and go 'whoa hey did you have a nasty circumcision accident or something' on me. Don't want people to make a federal fucking issue over the lack of cock and balls down there. It's bad for my reputation."

Oh. That might be a little important to him, yeah. You stop the sewing machine and stick the pins in the fabric so you can turn around and actually talk. "You got suggestions, little man?"

"I'm not little, quit calling me that." His voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, and he winds up with his girly kid voice on 'little'. There's a blush spreading across his cheeks, but he has the good sense not to show his embarrassment any other way.

You roll your eyes behind your shades, fully aware that he knows it. "Whatever. Point still stands, bro. Got any ideas on what to do?"

He shifts a bit at that, shaking his head. "I want it to, yanno, feel real if someone goes for it. Sock won't do that." Oh fuck no it won't. But yeah. Not like you're all that comfortable with him getting anywhere past kissing with anyone, but fuck, he's fifteen now and this is his first school dance. You can't afford to hold him back, people will get suspicious.

"When's the dance again?"

"Day before winter break." He's got a couple weeks, then. Most likely long enough to order something online, if you buy it like, today.

"All right, let's go see what the internet says." With more and more of Dave's support coming from his gal-pal Rose, he hasn't wanted to go to the groups as much. Which is cool, he mostly wanted to go there for the info anyway, but that's what the internet's for. You're pretty sure you can find a fake dick online. The problem is finding one that's suitable for the situation and not a giant dildo.

The internet, of course, turns up a few different ideas. Your first impulse is to go for more expensive packers, because like hell you're going to let Dave go with something cheap, but he's actually the one to shoot it down. "I dunno if I'm even gonna like doing this, Bro. It might be uncomfortable. It'll make me feel better, yeah, but it's still..." It's still just a fake. You know the options he's got, and you both know he'll never have the real deal. Surgery's not that advanced yet.

"Don't sweat it, bro. We'll get the cheap one, and if you like it, we'll get something better for long term. That okay?" You put a hand on his shoulder, but he flushes again and tries to shove you away. Not cool, and definitely suspicious.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Thanks Bro." And then he's gone, off to do his homework or (more likely) mess around on the x-box. Teenagers. You set aside the dress shirt and vest and go off to find him. You need to fit this shit to him properly anyway, and maybe you can use that as an excuse to pin down what's gotten him so pissy lately.

Oh Jesus fucking tap-dancing Christ, you did not just make a sewing pun, did you? Fuck. You did. Thankfully, no one had to hear it.

Sure enough, Dave's starting up some shitty fighter game. Despite the horrible control set on it, he's actually pretty good. But he won't get a chance to play much today, because you need to do some fitting. "Hey, I never said you could leave. Gotta make sure this stuff fits you." When you're making the whole outfit, dress pants and shirt included, frequent fittings have to be a thing.

"Oh hell no, I am not gonna be your pincushion."

"If you want this to actually fit, then yeah, you are. Get in here."

Dave grumbles and sulks, so you do what seems the most natural thing for a Strider to do – pick him up off the couch, throw him over your shoulder, and carry him to the mess of a work area you call a bedroom. "Bro, put me down!"

His voice cracks again, and you can't help but grin and poke fun at it. It's a normal thing for any guy in puberty to do, and it always happens at the worst times. "Mind saying that again, little man? I don't have sonar hearing. Gonna have to talk in some normal conversational tones."

Your teasing earns a hearty "Fuck you, Bro" in response, so you throw Dave on the bed. For whatever reason, that makes him go back to flushing a bright red, right up to the tips of his ears. You motion for him to stand up.

"Alright, down to your skivvies. Binder and boxers, little man." Seriously, you think you might be able to cook an egg on his face with the way he's blushing right now.

"Don't see why I gotta do this now."

"Because you've shot up like a fucking weed over the past couple months and you just keep growing. You want this to fit for the dance, I gotta make constant readjustments. You have any idea how much extra hem I'm using in case I gotta let it all out?" That earns a nervous half-smile for your efforts. Good. Whatever's eating him so bad isn't messing with his sense of humor, just the way he acts when you're around. You've stood there and watched him. Eat, play video games, do homework... He never notices you until you let him, and the moment you're there, he's tense and nervous. It's worse in situations like this, where you've gotta get your hands on him for one reason or another.

He finally looks like he's about to start stripping down, but pauses. "I'm not wearing my binder, Bro." He's been doing that more and more often lately. With less boob and more muscle building, his curves are less noticeable, and he sticks to wearing it just outside the apartment. Which is better for him anyways. "Go get it on, then get the fuck back in here."

He's stalling. Getting his binder on doesn't usually take that long for him anymore, even with growing and having to invest in new ones. When he finally does come back, at least he's already stripped down to socks, boxers, and binder. Good enough. You toss the half-finished pants towards him. "Careful with those, they're held together by pins right now." He winces slightly as some of the pins poke into his leg, but he stands there as you roll the pant legs up and pin them in place. For now.

You put the shirt on him and start penciling out where to add the buttons and button holes, taking careful notice of how shallow his breathing has gotten. He's way tense with you up close to him like this. "What's eatin' ya, little man?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit it's nothing. You've been tense around me the last few months. Don't think I haven't noticed."

That makes him tense up more, and you can't let him go on like this. You pull the shirt off him and motion for him to get out of the pants. He refuses, which is going to make this a headache and a half to deal with. "Out of the pants, Dave. I don't want them to get ruined."

He shakes his head, and his sulking is getting on your nerves. "Fucking hell, Evelyn Marie Strider get the fuck out of those pants right now!"

You don't even realize it until after the words have left your stupid fool mouth. The pants are thrown at your face with barely enough time to catch them before the door to your room gets slammed shut. You're going to have one hell of a time trying to repair this. You'd been doing so good with avoiding female pronouns even in your head, too! Why the fuck did that slip out? _Especially_ since his name's been legally changed, calling him Evelyn is just a kick in the balls for the both of you.

You fold the pants up as neat as you can and go over to the predictably closed and locked door of his room. "Dave."

"Go the fuck away Bro."

"Dave, I don't even know where that came from."

"Sure you don't."

"One free hit, no block. I did _not_ mean to say that, dude. You gotta believe me."

The door gets unlocked, which is as open an invitation as you're going to get from him right now. "Look, I'm trying to be a brother and a parent at the same time and something's gotta give once in a while. I stop being your brother long enough to be a parent and I fuck it up royally."

"No shit."

"David Lee." Oh thank god it comes out right this time.

He pauses for a minute before his voice comes out in a perfect deadpan. "Why did I ever think Lee was a good middle name?"

"Because it's a proper southern name, get over it." A little something's been repaired between you, and it doesn't need words or stupid girly shit like apologies. This time, at least.

"Why do you want me naked in your bedroom, anyway? It's creepy."

"So get some clothes on, fitting's done for now. Doesn't change the fact that you're acting weird."

He stiffens up again at that, and you nudge him to get his jeans and shirt on. "Dude, I'm sick of wearing my binder around the house. When can I get my top surgery done, anyways?"

"Doc says not until you're seventeen at the earliest. Gotta give your body time to finish growing. Two more years, bro. Now quit dodging the issue."

"Fine, whatever. I had a dream about you, alright?"

A dream? Well, that could explain a lot, depending on what kind of dream it was. "Dude, you never let dreams bother you for this long. Spill it."

"It was a sick dream, all right?"

Sick dream? Oh god, he's seriously been worked up about something that trivial? "You mean it was a wet dream." There he goes. You can see the blush going all the way down to his neck and shoulders. You take that as a yes. "Look dude, wet dreams are the weirdest shit, all right? I've had wet dreams about rats for fuck's sake. You can have them about pretty much anything, it doesn't mean you're attracted to whatever's in the dream."

Almost instantly you can see some of the tension bleed away from his shoulders. "Really?"

"Look at me straight and tell me you wanna fuck me."

"Ew, gross, no."

"Exactly." You reach out to ruffle his hair and he tries to shove you away. "Now that you're not so tense all the time, maybe we can have a sparring match later. Build up your strength a bit."

"Yeah, sure. I'll take you on and beat you down, Bro."

"I'd like to see you try."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the delay on this, guys. And if you saw the original version of this chapter... I had to take it down and revise it because it was seriously triggering me. I refuse to put up any of my own work if it starts giving me panic attacks, and I'm overall more pleased with the pacing and the way it turned out this time around anyways.

The Snowball's tonight. You agreed to DJ in exchange for a cut in Dave's tuition, so you can afford the night off to help him out by making sure the music he's gotta dance to isn't totally lame. It's all gotta be teen-safe and bullshit like that, but you can work around that while still making it cool. On the downside, that means the two of you have to be there way early. You assure the school it's fine for Dave to hang around and help you out if he wants, this shit's expensive but he knows how to handle it because you taught him, and because he knows he'll get a beatdown of epic proportions if any of it gets damaged.

 

He's rocking in his little tux. His own personal logo – a broken record symbol – is embroidered into one of the lapels (hand-stitched and he'd better fucking appreciate it), and the cool black is offset by a nice red bowtie and a deep maroon waistcoat-vest-thingy. Whatever it's called, it's underneath his jacket and helps to distract from the faint outline of the binder he's wearing under it all. Thank god that they've got good air conditioning in here, because you'd be sweating your ass off underneath all those layers.

 

You get your equipment set up and let him mess around and spin some beats while waiting for the other kids to show up. He knows you're basically the mystery parent at school, since only Lalonde and Egbert have ever really seen you, so being here for him tonight helps a bit with that. Show that yeah, he's got a guardian, you're the coolest big brother he could possibly ask for, blah blah blah. A brother cool enough to let him play around on expensive equipment, which is always cool in any kid's books.

 

The first few to trickle in are his friends, and you let him off to go chat with them while deciding what you want to work with in the way of slow songs. For now, you try to stick with stuff you know is popular, even though you think it tends to lean towards absolute shit. Maybe later you'll mix in some classics and current good stuff.

 

One of the kids comes up and tries to bother you. No, little lady with the big dorky glasses, this DJ does not take requests. Dave thankfully comes up and starts to drag her away, but you catch him mouthing 'exotic' towards you. This must be the adventuresome little gal-pal, Jade. Since Dave pulls her up to the empty dance floor while John and Rose go do their thing together (boy won't Egbert have a surprise on his hands once they start going somewhere), you decide that you can do just one thing for her.

 

You cue up a song called Gilded Sands and watch Dave start moving around the dance floor with his friend. She starts pulling this belly dancing routine, and you can tell that your little bro is finding the whole thing hilarious by the way he has trouble keeping his poker face.

 

More kids start trickling in, and you have to start mixing in other songs, some of them more popular and school-safe, others from your own personal stash of music. It's easy to lose track of time once you get into the swing of things, and all you really have to do is remember to mix in some slow sections every now and then.

 

Dave's taken off his jacket and draped it over a chair somewhere. You can't blame him, with all the kids moving around inside the building it's gotta be getting damn hot for him. But he's still got his vest on to hide his binder a bit, and from the way he's chatting with some kid you don't recognize, he's probably gone and started flirting.

 

You want to be proud of him, but you can only feel dread. You're okay with him being gay, but what happens when he comes out to someone he wants to get serious with? What'll they say, what'll they do? Dave's been through enough shit already, he shouldn't have to deal with someone who genuinely likes him that finds out he's got the wrong equipment and gets judgmental on him.

 

After a few hours, you start to lose track of him. He's a big boy, you can let him go off and do his own thing for just that long. At least, that's what you keep having to tell yourself. You don't like Dave wanting to do anything but slow dance with someone else. God forbid you think of him _kissing_. You'd probably punch the poor guy in the face if you caught your little brother playing tonsil hockey with someone.

 

Your phone starts buzzing in your pocket, and you pull it out to see Dave's cell phone number flashing on the caller ID. You set a few pre-mixed songs up on queue, and step away from the turntables so you can actually hear the call. You _really_ hope it's not him bragging about getting to second base with someone.

 

"Yo, sup little man?"

 

There isn't an immediate answer. Instead, you hear background voices yelling and... it sounds like taunting. But then Dave's voice pierces through that. "Help!"

 

You don't even think, you just drop the phone and start running. He's not on the dance floor, you'd have seen a fight starting up from your position. Nothing outside, just a few chaperones having a smoke and not doing their goddamn job. "The _fuck_ are you all doing? My little brother is in trouble, help me find him before I break all a your goddamn necks!"

 

They jump, then start to spread out. One of the teachers comes along with you, and suggests looking inside the bathrooms and locker rooms. You tell her to check the bathrooms, you'll check out the locker room.

 

Even before you get into the locker room from the gymnasium entrance, you can hear noise. Whoever is hurting Dave is in for a world of pain. You don't care if you go to jail, you are not letting anyone get away with hurting your little brother.

 

You try to move in slow, hoping you can catch them in the act instead of scaring them off. You're fearing the worst – what if they're raping him, what if they're trying to kill him, what if what if what if. Things only look worse when you come around the corner and see him topless – no binder at all.

 

The kid closest to you turns around, and you grin in a bit of nasty pleasure as he goes pale. "The fuck are all of you doing to my little brother?"

 

The others in the group pull away, similar expressions on their face. Except for one. "We're just teaching your little _sister_ here what her place is."

 

Dave kicks that little smartass right in the crotch, and you can see him wince even as he does it. He's gotta be hurting bad. "The fuck happened in here? It had better not be as bad as it looks or I will make damn sure you kids wind up in jail."

 

No one moves, except for the kid still whimpering in pain from the kick to his groin (and good fucking riddance). Finally, Dave pushes himself up. You can see the stiffness in his movements as he goes for his dress shirt and binder. "I got too hot out there, so I came in here to take my binder off for a few minutes and cool off. Camden and his little gang decided to follow me."

 

You stare at the other kids, looking for verification in their faces. "They try any funny business?"

 

It's a small relief to hear Dave snort. He's not actually as good at hiding his real feelings as he thinks he is, so the fact that he can laugh it off means a lot. "Nah, just tried to kick my ribs and face in."

 

There's footsteps echoing out in the halls, and you motion for Dave to just cover himself up. "Yo! In here. Caught some troublemakers beating the shit out of my little brother."

 

A few other chaperones come in, and you recognize one as a teacher. He takes a good look at the boys and shakes his head. "This lot. Come on, boys. Let's go call your parents."

 

You grab the teacher's shoulder, looking over the top of your shades at him. "I don't know about any of the other parents, but if these boys don't get kicked out for this shit, I'm pulling Dave and finding a different school for him." This isn't a public school – you're paying damn good money to make sure Dave's in a safe environment. If that safety is taken out from under him, then dammit you will relocate entirely if you have to.

 

"We have a zero tolerance policy on this sort of thing, Mr. Strider. We will be contacting you next week to ask you and David a few questions." He nods towards the kid that Dave kicked in the balls and sighs. "Camden and David have gotten very close to fighting in the halls. I can't say this entirely surprises me."

 

Yeah, you remember those few times the school called you with a warning about Dave's behavior. He always insisted that the other kid provoked him. With any luck, you won't have to deal with this again. You wait until the other kids are ushered out, then go sit on the bench next to Dave. "Lemme see, kiddo. I gotta know if we need to take you to the ER or if it can wait until morning." An emergency room visit is not in your budget, but you can work around it if you have to.

 

He grumbles and unbuttons his dress shirt, slouching as he lets you poke and prod at his ribs. "Looks like there's gonna be some nasty bruising there, but I don't think anything's broken." And he should _definitely_ not wear his binder until all that bruising heals up. "Guess the dance is over. Grab the rest of your clothes, little man. I'm gonna go start packing it in."

 

"I don't wanna go out there."

 

"'Cause of that little bastard?"

 

"I bet the whole school knows by now."

 

You ruffle his hair and hug his shoulders, careful not to squeeze too tight. "You can't run away from this, dude. If he hasn't ran his mouth off, you get to tell everyone yourself. Be the bigger man. If he has, then own up to it. The school ain't gonna do anything – they already know about you and Rose, they treat you all right. They'll also keep the other kids from making it as bad as sixth grade."

 

He shudders at the reminder of that terrible year. It was when you drew the line and started looking for places that had strong anti-discrimination laws that specifically included gender identity on their list. Aside from that one little shit and his friends, Dave's been really happy here, too. You don't want to have to pull him away from his closest friends.

 

After a moment, he nods and starts buttoning his shirt back up. You can see him slouching, trying to hide his chest (it's gone down in size a bit but he's still gonna need top surgery if he doesn't want to rely on binders for the rest of his life), and you wish that things could have turned out differently. He could have been born a boy, or he could have identified as a girl, or tonight could have never happened. But you trust him to make the right decision about what's best for him.

 

"You ready?"

 

"Not really, but let's go."


	10. Chapter 10

It's both a simultaneous relief and a nasty twist of fate that Dave was forced out right before Christmas break. He won't have to deal with anything for a while, but if you were him, you'd be dreading going back and facing all the nasty looks. It helped a little that Rose stepped right up beside him and came out herself, because you could see a lot of the tension in his shoulders bleed away. He has a friend willing to be out in the open and support him. It's more than he's ever had before now, at least.

You look up from your video editing when there's a knock at the door. It's Christmas Eve and you're not really expecting anyone over. Dave's eyebrows are furrowed and you can see him slouching a little further than he already had been over on the couch. After hitting the save button, you go to look and see who it is.

"Yo. It's Egbert. You wanna deal with him or should I shoo him off?"

Even though his little crush had been admitted ages ago, you don't think Dave has ever quite gotten over it. The first words out of Egbert's mouth had been "How come you didn't tell me that when you asked me out?" You're pretty sure that Dave's been deliberately avoiding him since then, which is exactly why your little bro surprises you when he mumbles to let John in.

Before you let him inside, though, you step out into the hallway and put a hand on the kid's shoulder. Man-to-man chat time. "You know how you fucked up, right?"

You can see his eyes widen a little, but he nods. "Rose told me, ehehe. I wanted to apologize and to, um, give Dave his Christmas present."

You immediately tack on a point in Egbert's favor for getting pronouns right. It took you years to stop thinking of Dave with female pronouns, and you still slip up on occasion. "You gonna try any funny business with him?"

Another point in his favor as he shakes his head. "Not unless he wants me to." That earns him a smack to the head, and you're more than a little satisfied when he says it hurt.

"All right. Go in and talk with him, I'm gonna be  _right fucking there_ the whole time, so if he starts getting upset, you're out on your ass in the middle of winter. Got it?" He scrunches up his face in some weird parody of a serious look, except you know Egbert and know that it's totally genuine. He's just hilariously overeager to prove that he's not a total fuckup.

You sigh and open up the apartment door, trying not to wince as John unironically lets out a yell and goes to jump on the couch next to Dave. Times like this, you're grateful for the choice to keep your desktop out in the living room instead of in your bedroom. At least this way you can keep being productive while making sure your little bro won't get into any trouble.

Maybe Egbert doesn't see it when he puts Dave in a headlock and gives him a noogie, but you can see the slight wince at the contact. "Ease it up, Egderp, I still got bruises that are healing yanno."

"Oh jeez, I forgot!" Seriously? How could he forget about how a group of bullies beat the shit out of Dave? You want to say something dickish to him, but the next words out of his mouth make you pause. "How are you healing up? They didn't break anything, did they?" At least Egbert cares, even if he had a momentary lapse in memory.

"Nah, they didn't do much worse than crack one of my ribs. Can't wear my binder for another couple weeks, but I'll be fine." You're kind of surprised how casually Dave references his binder to the kid that probably would want a couple handfuls of his boobage if he hadn't stunted their development with hormones and constant binding.

"Binder? What's that?"

"It's how I keep my man-titties from flopping all over the place, dude. Get with the program." You snort, and you're betting that John's face has gone an interesting shade of red at that.

"Oh! Oh. Okay... Does it hurt to wear it? I mean. Normally, when you're not getting the shit beaten out of you."

You pause your editing and turn around to go kick Egbert's little ass, but you can see Dave shaking his head at you. Maybe John thinks it's meant for him, though. "Nah. I mean, it's a little uncomfortable, but feeling more like myself is worth not being able to take a really deep breath or having to slouch all the time." Like he's doing right now, to try and hide his chest.

"Can I see one?" The curiosity in his voice is almost painful to hear. It's so genuine and eager, but he's got a lot to learn.

"Fuck no, you don't just go asking a dude if you can see his binder. Rude, man. I don't ask you if I can see your boxers or briefs or whatever the fuck you wear, this is the same thing."

"For your information, I'm wearing Ghostbusters boxer shorts."

Dave snorts, and you have to keep from doing the same because _damn_ that sounds exactly like something Egbert would do. John laughs, but he at least drops the subject and pulls something out of his coat pocket. "I brought you a Christmas present."

"Thought the Egberts didn't celebrate Christmas. Where's your dreidel, man?"

"Ha ha ha, just because I don't celebrate doesn't mean you don't, either. Jeez, just take it." You can't see it, but you can practically hear the eye-rolling going on over there, followed by Dave ripping open his present.

"Dude. The fuck? You didn't have to get me this shit." So much for getting any editing done. You swivel around in your chair to get a good look at the brand new iPad your little bro's holding, and you can't quite hold back the low whistle that wants to escape. John must have been saving up for _months_ to get that thing.

"Where'd you get the cash for this kind of Christmas present? Also notice how I'm totally refraining from cracking a Jew joke here, because it almost physically hurts and you're my best bro."

John laughs and punches Dave in the shoulder. "I saved my allowance for it. Also, you're a dick."

"Says the dude with one to the dude that has been tragically left dickless by God."

For a moment, all you can hear is Egbert making this ridiculous half-snorting noise while he tries to keep from laughing, and then the dam explodes and he just can't stop.

"Jesus fuck, John. Breathe. I know I'm the king of witty comebacks but seriously, it wasn't that funny."

After a minute, the kid finally calms down enough to wipe tears away from his eyes. "Don't stop, okay?"

"Stop what?"

"Being... you. I had this stupid, dumb little worry that you'd stop being _Dave_ because of all this."

Dave shrugs his shoulders. "What can I say? Can't be tamed."

You're relieved to hear John laugh again, and when they start ripping open the packaging to Dave's shiny new electronic toy, you turn around to finally get some work done. They're kids. Dave's a resilient little motherfucker, and John... You're just glad John values his broship with Dave so much. He could've refused to talk to Dave, kept that iPad for himself after months of saving, and moved on.

But he came back. Maybe he'll never return Dave's feelings, maybe he will. But you hope to God that your little bro sees how lucky he is to have John even as just a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is it! The final chapter of Big Brother. Thanks to everyone for sticking around so long, even through my ungodly hiatus.
> 
> If you wanna find out more about my future writing projects, I have a tumblr! rimbaum.tumblr.com
> 
> I don't bite, I swear.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Big Brother [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/599029) by [Opalsong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opalsong/pseuds/Opalsong)




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